Relentless
by AlexisPryce
Summary: Files dropped to the floor as Gil shuffled things about on his desk, hurriedly. His hands were shaking as he bent to clean up his mess. (GSR)
1. Stolen

A/N: Go easy on me, kiddos. This is my first chapter of my first CSI story. Hopefully, it's not too terrible or trite. Please R & R!

-1-

It was the nail on her left thumb that took the most abuse. Nibbling softly on the bit of exposed keratin, Sara Sidle's soft brown eyes scanned the webpage before her, searching for any information relating to her cause.

"Considering adopting?" Greg Sanders asked as he entered the room.

Jumping, Sarah closed the page with a click of a mouse and turned to face her younger colleague with a dissatisfied smile. "I'm going to put a bell around your neck."

"You know, my Mom always said that. Funny." He took a seat across from her, leaning back in his chair. "We're out on assignment together."

"Oh yeah? What do we have?" She reached for the file in his hands, flipping open the manila cover and scouring the contents. "DB…Southside…confession?" Cocking an eyebrow, she tossed the file back to Greg.

"Yeah. But, I did manage to get the most interesting case tonight. We're pretty dead." A look from Sara warranted a smirk. "No pun, of course."

"Right." Grabbing her jacket, she headed out the door, passing by Gil's office with slight hesitation. After having passed the door frame, she turned back, popping her head inside. "Hey, Gil…thanks for the confession case. You know they're never that easy."

"That's why you're on it." He never looked up from his desk, filing through a stack of papers, looking for the ones which still needed his approval.

Greg whistled from the end of the hall, tilting his head out the door. Nodding, Sara knocked on the doorframe with a slow, regretful swing in her first step. _Yep, shouldn't have stopped._

The car ride was quiet. Sara watched out the window as they approached the crowded entrance to the club, an impatient manager tapping his toes at the front door. As soon as kits were retrieved and a path was made towards the door, Sara found herself in a sea of angry club-goers. Each over-dressed male and under-dressed female slung angry words at the investigators, wanting to be able to go back into the club to finish a dance, a drink, or a deal.

"Look, how long is this going to take?" An irate manager asked, looking at his watch.

"As long as we need." Greg thrust the necessary paperwork into the manager's hands and pushed past the guards. The scene inside was messy. The coroner was knelt next to the victim, pulling his thermometer from the body.

"Hey David…what do we have?" Sara took a similar crouch near the body, inspecting the surroundings carefully.

"GSW to the chest, no other visible wounds. He's been dead for about ten minutes, but his body temp is more up around the 102 mark. Can't tell for sure if it's the heat of the club or what, but we'll find out in a bit." Standing, he nodded and gave a little salute. "Good luck, guys. That mob's nasty."

Sara nodded, pulling out her camera and snapping off a few shots. "Tell me about it. See you at the lab." She took a few steps around, making sure not to crush any more of a broken champagne flute on the floor. "Someone was celebrating." A few more photos were taken of shards of glass in the vic's hand.

"No I.D., no money…you wanna take care of this and I'll get the confession?" Greg stood, snapping the latex gloves from his hands and pushing them into his pocket.

"Sure. I'm not in the mood to deal with the live ones today anyway." Laughing, Greg walked away from the scene with his kit, leaving Sara be. He stepped underneath the tape and up to the responding officer. "Who?"

Officer Davies had a nose like a pterodactyl. Greg had always found him amusingly pointed on his edges. Turning to face the young CSI, Davies offered his hand as a greeting. "Hey, Sanders. This is Jenna Gallows. She claims to have shot the vic. Says he dumped her a few minutes before, and she stole a gun from some guy's pants, then threw it across the room when she was done."

"Do we have the gun?"

Davies smirked. "What do you think?"

"Great." Greg sighed and moved towards the young woman. "Ms. Gall—"

A scream came from the main dance floor, followed by two shots. Most of the crowd stirred, ducking low. As soon as the shots were over, however, Greg took off, heading for where he'd left Sara. Sliding into the room, he saw what he feared the most. Where Sara had been, her camera and kit remained. Drag marks from her shoes pointed to a side exit, apparently not secured by the police. Blood rushed to Greg's ears as he began to hear his heartbeat in them, fumbling for his radio.

"This is CSI Greg Sanders…backup respond ASAP! Possible abduction at Club Ninety-Nine, I'm in pursuit of the perp as I speak!" His feet pounded the floor, squealing as he pushed open the exit and stumbled onto pavement. A tagless black Buick pulled out of the alley, onto the street, Greg quick behind it. As he realized his speed was no match for that of a car, he slowed to a stop and panted as he watched the car leave, helpless.

-

The soft aroma of the green tea in the mug beneath Grissom's nose allowed him a second of fleeting relaxation in the hectic workspace he occupied every night. His scent-enhanced daydream ended abruptly with the shrill cry of his phone. Sighing softly, he placed the mug on his desk and answered the phone. "Grissom."

"Where the HELL are you?" Catherine shouted into the phone.

"Sitting at my desk. Where the hell are you?" He replied calmly, waiting to hear why his colleague was so frazzled.

"At Greg and Sara's crime scene. Without Sara. Gil, we've been trying to get you by radio and apparently you've turned off your cell. Sara was abducted while processing her scene. Greg turned his back for just a second and…"

The receiver hit Grissom's desk as he snatched his coat and sprinted for his vehicle, kit and gun in tow.

-

The room was dark, quiet. Groaning, Sara lifted her head from the desk to which she was securely tied. Her head was throbbing with pain in a way it had never hurt before. She could feel the sticky, dry feeling of coagulating blood on her temple.

"Hello?" Sara's dry lips and throat provided no ease in calling for the attention of her captors. "Someone please…tell me what's going on…" Her head swirled, dizziness setting in. Resting her head upon the desktop again, too weak to hold it up any longer, she forced her eyes to stay open. If she had a concussion, she had to stay awake. Stay alert. Be ready to make a statement when they find you. Leave evidence enough to convict the perps if they kill you.

-

"Someone fill me in, now." Jumping out of his SUV, Gil Grissom was met with the worried looks of Catherine, Greg, and Nick. Nick's jaw was set hard, his cheeks flushed with fury at the fact that Sara, one of his best friends, had been taken by some jerk. Looking to Grissom, he crossed his arms over his chest and cleared his throat.

"She's been gone for fifteen minutes. Greg went to talk to the suspect and shots were fired. He went back into the main dance floor, and Sara was gone. Her kit, her gun, and scrapes from her shoes were left behind. Greg ran after the car, tagless black Buick. Other than that…nothing."

"Perp came back to the scene? Wanted to keep her quiet?" Raising an eyebrow, Grissom ducked under the tape and sped for the scene, wanting to see for himself. Although not a religious man, he was secretly praying that substantial evidence was left.

"I don't know, Griss. But God damn…if we don't find her in twenty-four hours—"

"Shut up, Nick. I know. Don't say it." The older man adjusted his glasses on his nose, the grips already sliding with stress-induced sweat. He leaned down and carefully pulled on latex gloves before gripping a small flashlight with which to examine the evidence.

Catherine Willows stepped up, biting her lower lip. "Greg's pretty shaken. I'm having an officer take him back to the station for evaluation." She looked over the void where a dead body had been moments earlier, the skid marks from her friend's shoes. "Double scene. Two crimes, seemingly unrelated, within minutes of each other. How do we tell evidence apart?"

"We keep our heads." Grissom pulled his tweezers from his kit and picked up bullet casings. "And interpret the evidence." When he looked up at Catherine, she could see tears in his eyes. "No matter how much we're hurting."


	2. Dirty Laundry

A/N: Thanks for your awesome feedback on the first chapter. I really appreciate it! I hope you stay as interested in reading the story as I have been writing it.

"Well?" Grissom stood, waiting impatiently for DNA results from the blood found on the victim. "It was inconsistent with his wound. Tell me it's his, though. Please tell me."

Mia sighed softly. "Griss…it's female." She handed the lab result over to Grissom with a lump in her throat. "It's Sara's."

Gripping the lab report, Grissom tore out of the lab, moving towards Catherine's office. "What do you have?" His voice was nearly a growl.

"I'm looking into both vics…" Catherine looked up at Grissom, clearing her throat. "I'm trying to figure out if they're connected in any way. Maybe you can help? How long have you known Sara?"

"Ten years. I knew her when she was a student…we corresponded." Sitting down across from her, he tossed a lab report. "Blood on the vic matched Sara's CODIS entry. She's hurt, Cath." He removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I'm not resting until she's back safe in my lab."

"Sure you meant to say 'lab', Griss?" She cocked an eyebrow and looked through records on Sara. "There's six months between when she was a student and when she started working at San Francisco. And I've got nothing to account for those. Strange relationship, maybe? Something of that nature?"

Grissom licked his lips. "The last time I saw Sara before she came to work here in Las Vegas…probably about three or four months before she graduated. She wasn't seeing anyone. She was as straight-laced as she had been in school." His eyes drifted to the side, then back to Catherine with a shrug.

She sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "I'll dig. And the vic's been identified as George McCallan. Sara's photos are being processed to see if the kidnapper stole anything from the scene…besides Sara."

-

"Look, I told you already what happened. I was talking to Davies. I heard Sara scream. I heard two gunshots. I ran back to the scene. Sara was gone. I went out the door in the direction of her drag marks, and I saw an unmarked car peel out of the alley." Greg lifted his head off of the table and blinked at Brass. "We're all upset about this. And I want to help. Please."

"You know I can't let you do that until you're cleared, Sanders. You're a witness. Letting you work the case without proper evaluation would be a conflict of interest. Sorry." The older man stood from the table and walked out the door, addressing the psychologist outside. "Go easy on him, okay? I trust him, and I'm pretty sure you do too."

The psychologist nodded before heading into the interview room.

-

"I found the treads." Warrick jogged into Grissom's office, slamming a paper on the desk. "Nothing special about them. However, thanks to Greg's report, I narrowed to a make and model on the car. Buick LeSabre, probably a 1998 or 1999." Warrick found himself staring at the back of Grissom's chair throughout his report.

"Put out an APB on the car. I'll see if Cath has anything on the backgrounds of Sara and the vic." Warrick watched Grissom stand, his jaw set, eyes red and watery. He stormed out of the office before a word could be said. Shaking his head, Warrick took his results and jogged off to find Nick.

"Cath, what do we have?" Grissom was still upset, but he'd taken a moment to rinse his face, ridding himself of most evidence of crying.

Catherine was leaning back in her chair, chewing on a fingernail as she scrolled down a webpage. "I've got something, but I'm not sure about it. Could be totally bogus."

Eyes darkening, brow furrowing, Grissom leaned forward and took a seat. "What? Something weird? I can't imagine Sara having an odd past…"

"Well, get ready to be amazed." Catherine let out a deep sigh.

-

"Mia and Hodges say that with Sara's photos and the evidence collected, Gallows did it. Sara's case would have been open-and-shut." Brass leaned on the table where Warrick was sitting with Nick, shaking his head. "Anything new?"

Warrick stood, his hands splayed on the desk. "I put an APB out on the car, no news yet. I wish there was more I could do."

Running into the room, Nick swung around the door frame. "They found the car abandoned about six blocks from the strip. I'm on my way to process it. Wanna go, Brown?"

Nick didn't have to wait for an answer.


	3. Shortening the Fuse

A/N: Oh my Gosh, thank you so much for your feedback. I really appreciate it. Keep it coming! I've been over and over this story, trying desperately to keep my facts straight on the case. LOL I swear this chapter itself was revised about eight times. I hope you like it!

P.S. Criticism, unless constructive, will not be tolerated. Any further reviews calling my work far-fetched, or any other version of the phrase will end the story quickly. This is fan fiction, folks. I write what I want, and if you don't like it, don't read it. Especially don't leave me discouraging words. Follow the Thumper philosophy: If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say it at all.

-

"You're so beautiful." The voice was a whisper in Sara's ear. "I can see why he loves you."

"Back off." Despite the pounding in her head, Sara threw her shoulder in the direction of the voice, hard. She made brief contact with someone's forehead, but not enough to hurt them. The voice laughed. Male, deep. She tried to open her eyes, but all she saw was black. Her eyelashes hit a blindfold just as her shoulders were shoved hard into the back of the chair. A huge weight sat on her lap, breath hot on her neck.

"Do you know…what I could do to you?" He whispered. "Of course you do. You see it all the time. It's your job to pick up the pieces of a person's life and put them in a box to bury. I wonder, will he do this for you? Will he pick up your pieces after I scatter them all over Las Vegas?" A tongue slithered over her ear, causing her to spit at her attacker.

He paused for a moment, then a fist collided with her jaw. Sara took it like a man…no noise. Noise would be exactly what he wanted.

"Aww, come on, Sara. Scream for me. Or I'll find another way to make you scream." The cold chuckle filled the air as it walked away and slammed a door behind it.

All she could do was breathe. Breathe loudly enough to hear, to keep her eardrums from bursting in the deafening silence of the room.

-

The computer monitor turned to face Grissom, a picture of a little girl on the screen. She had soft blue eyes and a smile he'd seen before, all framed by curly brown hair.

"Do you remember Anna Rydell? Abuse case, about three weeks ago? The girl's parents…"

"Yeah, it was Sara's. She was really disturbed about it." Gil leaned forward, remembering how the little girl's eyes had captivated him so. "Do you think the parents retaliated against her investigation?"

Catherine nodded. "The family's originally from Boston. Apparently, they were on vacation and Anna ended up in the hospital with some evidence of sexual assault, a bunch of bruises and broken bones. Mr. Rydell went missing from questioning three days after Sara's investigation landed Anna in temporary foster care here in Vegas."

Grissom was out of his chair, heading for the door. "Sit, Gil. I'm not done." Catherine spoke.

He turned and cocked an eyebrow, leaning against the chair. "We're on borrowed time, Cath."

"I know. Anna's parents weren't her real parents. She was adopted. Her mother gave her up when she was born. The birth mother filed for custody one week ago."

"Yeah, and?" Gil was getting impatient. He tapped his fingers on the back of the chair, watching Ms. Willows intently.

She sighed. "The mother's name…on Anna's custody paperwork…is Sara Sidle."

-

After having been cleared and released to work on Sara's case, Greg took the first opportunity to help out.

"Can I help you?" An attractive young lady asked, standing at the door with a toddler on her hip.

"Ms. Baxter, I'm Greg Sanders with the Las Vegas Crime Lab. I'm here to see an Anna Rydell, who was recently placed in your custody. I have a warrant for a DNA sample." He held up a piece of paper, eyes flickering to the little boy, who was leaning on his mother's shoulder, eyes drooping with sleep.

"What's this about?" She shifted the little boy and licked her lips, glancing over the warrant.

"A woman recently filed for custody of Anna, but we haven't been able to find a birth certificate to prove that woman is actually her mother. We need to do a DNA test to find out if she's the real deal." Looking past the woman, Greg could see the little girl in the background, quietly reading a book on the sofa. "I promise, there's nothing involved that would hurt her. I just need to swab her cheek for a sample, then I'll be gone." He flashed a charming smile.

Biting on her cheek, she glanced back at Anna. "Alright. Come in."

He entered the house, walking towards Anna with a little bit of a smile. There was something familiar about the little girl…but he wasn't going to make any assumptions until the DNA told him the right answer. Kneeling in front of her, he took a look at the book. "Hi Anna."

Anna's sharp blue eyes looked up. "Hi. Who are you?"

Greg grinned. "My name's Greg. I'm here to do a little bit of a test on you so we can find your Mommy."

She closed the book and sat up on her knees, examining him for a moment before she spoke. "What kind of test?"

"It's one where I take this…" He pulled a cotton swab from his kit and opened the cap to let her see. "And I rub it inside your cheek." He made a corresponding motion. "It collects information from you that can help me find your Mommy."

Anna nodded and looked at the swab, then Greg's chest. "Can I see your nametag?"

"Sure!" He unclipped his badge and handed it to the little girl, watching the amazement in her eyes.

Anna smiled. "Are you a policeman, Greg?"

He laughed and held up the swab. "If I tell you, can I do the test?"

Looking hesitant, she nodded and opened her mouth a little bit.

"Thank you." He swabbed the little girl's cheek and capped it before standing. "I'm not a police officer, but I'm a criminalist. I think you'll find out what that is pretty soon. It was nice to meet you, Anna. I hope to see you again." Grinning, he headed for the door. "Thank you, Miss Baxter. Someone will be in touch."

-

Sweat trickled down Grissom's brow as he paced around the crime scene once more. The body had since been removed and the killer charged with murder. So far, the two crimes hadn't been connected. The new revelations given to him by Catherine told him they never would be. His thoughts swirled. Why would Sara ask for custody of the little girl? Was there any possibility that she was hers? She'd never told him about a boyfriend when she was at Harvard…especially towards the end.

His attention focused on the floor. Suddenly, he leaned down and pulled the tweezers from his kit. A short brown hair laid silently on the red, lacquered floor. Picking it up, he found that the end still contained a skin tag, just enough to run through DNA. He placed the hair into a small envelope and stood, placing it in his kit. Another sweep of the area revealed nothing new to him.

He called Greg's cell.

"Yello?"

"Greg, I'm bringing in a hair sample with a skin tag. It's brown, unlike the vic's and short unlike Sara's. Be ready to run it for me. It's one we missed, and hopefully it's not one of the club goers." He climbed into the driver's seat of his SUV and started the engine.

"Alright, I've got Mia running my swab of the little girl's DNA right now. The results should be in by the time you get here."

"Thanks." Grissom closed his phone and headed back, praying for a lead in the case.

-

"Damn. Do you have anything?" Warrick leaned his elbows on the trunk of the car, having found only an ancient McDonald's cheeseburger wrapper.

"Not yet. Give it a minute." Nick Stokes adjusted his goggles and moved closer to the driver's seat of the car, sweeping a flashlight over the headrest. "Ah-hah!"

"That'd better be a good one." Slamming the trunk shut, Warrick moved to open the back seat, looking over at Nick.

"Oh, it is, Mon Frere. I got a hair. Short, brown. No tag, though." He enveloped the hair and leaned back, pulling out the ultraviolet scanner.

Warrick took the light and waved it slowly over the back seat of the car, his caramel-colored skin paling by the moment. "Nick…it's a bloodbath." Nearly the entire length of the bench seat in the back of the car fluoresced with blood. Closing his eyes for a moment, Warrick caught his breath and looked closer. "Hair. Long and brown. Maybe Sara's?" He bagged the few strands he had, which all looked as if they'd been pulled out of her scalp with force. "God damn, Sara. I hope you fought."

-

"LVPD are asking for any information as to the whereabouts of this woman, Criminalist Sara Sidle. She was taken from an investigation seven and a half hours ago, and fear is rising as the hours continue. If you have any information, please call 555-7840 or the Las Vegas Police Department." Catherine turned off the TV, turning around in the break room to face Greg. "Well…at least people are looking for her now."

"Should they have mentioned that she works for the Crime Lab? Who issued that release?"

Ecklie appeared in the doorway. "I did. You're all wasting time. She needs to be found now. With all the time you've wasted, I'm not so sure she's not already dead." He shook his head, turning with a hint of a smirk on his lips. He was always looking to upstage the night and graveyard shifts. His eyes met a very angry look from Gil Grissom.

"She's not dead."

"Right, how would you know?" Ecklie smirked. "You've been screwing around and following dead leads. Like you always do. I've got half a mind to have you fired for not assigning a team with less personal connection to the victim."

"Fine. Fire me. But I'm pretty damn sure that you'll lose your entire night team if you do. We're looking as hard as we can for Sara, and no other team could do what these are doing. We love Sara. We want her back. Anyone with less of a personal connection would do less to find her." Gil's eyes narrowed, his fists clenched in anger.

"I don't know about the team, but I can tell _you_ love Sara. That kind of relationship is unhealthy, and if you keep it up, you'll definitely lose your job."

There was a sickening crack as Ecklie's nose broke under the pressure of Grissom's fist. "Like I said, fire me. Go ahead. We'll see what the higher-ups have to say."

Mia, astonished, jogged up and cleared her throat before speaking quietly. She nearly grinned as Ecklie ran off to have his nose fixed. "Um, Grissom? The results are printing. We got TWO hits in CODIS. Looks like both Mommy and Daddy are in the database."

Warrick, Nick, Catherine, Grissom, and Greg all stood around the printer, anxiously watching. Even Mia, who hardly knew Sara, wanted to try to glance around them for a shot at seeing the results first, but she was already working furiously on results from the car. As the paper left the printer and rested in the tray, nobody moved for a moment. Eventually, Grissom snatched the paper and turned it over, eyes searching the page for information. He swallowed hard, his brow furrowing at the figures.

"Well?" Catherine asked, a hand on her hip.

The older man remained silent as he walked to a chair and took a seat. Sighing deeply, he handed the paper over to Catherine, whose eyes widened at the results.

"But…Gil…"

"We were all fingerprinted and locked into CODIS when we took this job. But I never expected to see my name on one of those." He removed his glasses and ran his fingers through his hair.

"Griss…you're the father of Anna? Sara's baby?" Nick asked, quietly.

"I forgot about that night. She was graduating in three months, and I flew out to Boston for a party she was having. The bottle of bourbon she bought me was…fantastic. We spent all night drinking and talking about her studies, my work, all that. When I woke up the next morning…she was in my arms. I got scared, so I just left. I didn't want her to remember…but she must have known. Why the _fuck_ didn't she tell me?!" As he stood in anger, Grissom's fist collided hard with the door frame of the lab. He stormed into his office, slamming the door.


	4. More Questions, Fewer Answers

A/N: Brought to you by awesome reviewers like Wiccamage!

-

Brass was the first to make a move towards Grissom's office. He hated to do it, but it had to be done. Knocking lightly on the door, he listened for a response.

"Gil, it's Jim. Look, we have to talk." Brass looked at the floor and waited. The door opened to an unconvincingly calm-looking Grissom.

"Yes, Jim?"

"I'm afraid that…with your connection to the case…" Brass cleared his throat, looking down at the floor once more, his voice soft, like a whisper. "We have to question you. As the father of Sara's child, you're a suspect."

"I was right here when she was abducted."

"Unfortunately, we have no proof of that. We only have you placed here at the office just prior to and about ten minutes after the kidnapping. I'm sorry, Gil." He sighed. "If the ADA doesn't like your side of the story, we might have to place you under arrest. But hopefully, we won't. Just remember your rights and don't let her badger you into anything."

"Save it, Brass. I waive my rights. I didn't do anything to Sara."

"You know I have to. We'll talk in questioning." Jim Brass led his friend down the hall, most of the lab watching them go.

-

"Where are they, Sara Sidle?" He snickered. She could feel his breath on her neck. He'd tied her securely to the chair now, there was no struggling. Her head still hurt, but now she noticed the stinging pain in her leg. Before it had been mild, now it seared through her bones. She was shot. It made sense. The gun went off. One round into the ceiling, one into her thigh.

"Where ARE they, Sara? Where's your lover? Mister Grissom? Hmm? I know you're in love with him. I've watched the way you are with him. Is he Anna's father?"

Anna. Oh God, he knew about Anna. "What the fuck do you know about my little girl? What have you done to her?"

"You made up what I did to her, Sidle! You stole her from me. She was mine, remember? You gave her up."

It clicked in Sara's head. Tears stained the blindfold as she tried to pull against her restraints. "I gave her up because I wanted my baby girl to have a home where she could be loved. Not abused by sick, demented, perverted assholes like you." Her voice shook as she spoke. She was emotionally distraught, her body failing her by the moment. She knew then just how much blood she'd lost. It became harder and harder to hold her head up. "If you kill me, if you let me die here from these injuries, they will find you. Yes, Grissom will find you. And God help you when he does."

The laughter continued until Sara passed out again.

-

"Mr. Grissom, you've waived your right to have an attorney present?" The assistant district attorney stood at the end of the table, watching Gil closely.

"Yes. Nothing to hide." She was blurry in his eyes, but he could see a charcoal or black suit, possibly pinstriped, blonde hair, fuchsia lace top beneath her jacket. She placed her briefcase on the table and moved towards him. He pushed his glasses back onto his nose and took a proper look at her.

"When did you come into the office on Thursday?"

"Five-thirty P.M. I came in, sat down at my desk, and began sifting through my paperwork."

"When did you see Ms. Sidle last?"

"Around seven or eight P.M. She stopped in to talk about her case."

"Did you follow her?"

"No."

"Where were you when Ms. Willows was trying to contact you?"

Gil sighed. "I was at my desk. I didn't move until she called my office phone. I didn't want to be disturbed."

"Why was that?" The ADA took a seat.

"I'm a busy man. I have an important job. People rely on me." He crossed his hands and leaned back in his chair.

"And was today the first time you learned about the child you fathered with Ms. Sidle ten years ago?"

He swallowed hard, staring at the wall in front of him. "Yes." His voice was whispery.

The young woman's eyes examined Grissom's features and she nodded, standing and heading out the door. "I believe you're free to go, Mr. Grissom. I'm sorry."

-

Catherine hung up the phone with a lump in her throat. "Nick…"

Nick raised an eyebrow, stopping as he passed her door. Moving inside, he looked at Catherine. "What, what is it? You're pale."

"DB. Female. Dark hair, Sara's height and weight. She's wearing Sara's field gear." She held back a sob. "They need someone to ID her."

Nick slumped into a chair and looked at Catherine's shaking hands. "I can't. I won't do it."

"Someone has to."

"I will." Warrick stepped into the room, watching his two co-workers. "I think I'm the least emotionally attached. Meanwhile, keep working, you two. It might not be her."

-

"I got your page, David…what is it?" Nick moved into the morgue, just as quickly as he had been all day.

"I know we already figured out that Sara was injured by a round fired from her gun. I know that we found out this guy was shot by our suspect. But what I just found…is this. It was in the middle of a footprint on the body, so it was definitely left by our perpetrator." David held up a clear plastic baggie with a sliver of bright green inside. "Grass. How much grass is there in Las Vegas?"

"Dude, if I were gay…" Nick snatched the baggie and headed for the door.

"Pfft. I'm too good for you." David smiled to himself and prepared his table for the newest body, who was on her way in.

Nick ran into the lab, where he met with Greg and Mia. Greg had begun assisting Mia with the evidence from the car. They sat, peering over the results and watching the printer for more.

"Can you guys narrow down a species for me?" Tossing the bag onto Mia's table, Nick walked towards them to see the results.

"The short hair matches one Grissom found on the victim. The long hair is Sara's." Mia spoke softly, picking up the next sheet from the printer and nodding towards Greg to look at the grass.

"And the blood?"

She let out a sigh.


	5. Desperation

Warrick held a mask over his mouth and nose, making sure he took a deep breath before David and Dr. Robbins removed the sheet from the body. Doc Robbins looked up at Warrick before glancing down at the bloody sheet. Most of the blood collected around the head, the formerly white cotton clinging to the facial area.

"Ready?"

"As I'll ever be." Warrick sighed and watched as they pulled back the covering. Her brown hair was matted with blood, sticking to where her face used to be. Instead of features, the young woman's face was scraped clean. "Ugh…God…who is this monster?"

David shook his head. "Looks like razor blade. The small cuts around the chin indicate something very thin." He traced the hairline with a gloved fingertip, then moved to her clothes. "Redressed. The velcro's sloppy on her vest, her t-shirt's half tucked in, half out. And the shoes are definitely tied on by a third party. The knot faces forward, rather than back."

"But is it Sara?" He examined the hands closely, looking for any signs of jewelry, tan lines, or foreign marks.

"We'll take dental impressions and fingerprints and send them to the lab." Doc Robbins was already in motion.

-

Catherine was the next bravest soul to knock on Grissom's door. She turned the handle to find it unlocked. The light of his laptop was the only thing that illuminated Gilbert Grissom's face. She slipped in and closed the door behind her before sitting herself in a chair in front of his desk. "You can't hide forever." Her voice was still quiet, waiting to hear word from Warrick about the body.

"I don't plan on it."

"Damnit, Gil." She stood, tears threatening to roll down her cheeks. "They found a body. She fits Sara's description and she's wearing her clothes. She could be dead. Do you even care?"

Grissom pulled off his glasses and looked at the woman standing in front of him. "I care more than you'll ever know. I've loved Sara for twelve years. And I've never consciously done anything about it. Now I find that she had my baby and didn't tell me. What I want more than anything else in the world is to get out there and find her and hold her and tell her that I want to spend the rest of my life with her and our daughter." He pointed at the door. The computer beeped. As soon as he looked down, he stood and headed for the door, grabbing Catherine's hand to take her with him.

"Gil, that was…what's going on?"

"The grass David found on the primary victim's body is kudou grass, specially engineered to grow in sand. It's Mongolian, so it's pretty rare. One golf course in Vegas uses it." He released Catherine's hand and grabbed his jacket, nearly sprinting for the door.

-

"Yes, no, and no." Mia placed a lab report on the table in front of Greg, Nick, and Warrick. "Your body isn't Sara Sidle, and only half of the blood in the back of the car is Sara's. We know she sustained an injury during the abduction, so that's probably where your blood came from. But it didn't seep too deeply into the upholstery, so she didn't lose that much initially. The other blood…it belongs to your second victim. No hits in CODIS or AFIS. We'll have to search the missing persons database and see if she's been missed yet."

A weight seemed to have been taken off of everyone's shoulders, a collective sigh of relief was released into the room. "Well…good. She's not dead." Greg said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"That we know of." Warrick placed a hand on his hip. "What else do we have?"

The radio on Nick's hip buzzed. "CSI Catherine Willows requesting backup at Rockhurst Greens golf course, 67458 Gala Drive. In pursuit of kidnapping and murder suspect." The CSIs in the room all looked for a brief moment at each other before heading for their vehicles.

-

"Sara…"

Groaning, Sara opened her eyes. Light in the room nearly blinded her and she squeezed her eyelids shut tightly. Her back was cold, away from the chair, but her hands and feet were still bound. She felt a hard surface underneath her. Table. She was tied to the table. Allowing her eyes to adjust to the light, she tilted her head to the side. There was a window. She could see daylight, a grassy field, trees. Was she in vegas? Swallowing hard, she let out a soft cough. "Where are we?"

"Where we've always been." The man looked at his watch, then out the window. "Ten minutes. What did you want to do before you died? You've got ten minutes to do it." He laughed lightly. As she turned to look at him, he waved. "Hi."

"I want to kill you."

"Right."

Sara coughed again, shaking her head and tugging against her restraints. "They'll be here. They'll find you."

"No, no, my love. They'll find you. Dead." He grinned as he leaned down and ran his tongue along Sara's lower lip.

Lifting her head, Sara bit hard, but missed him by a half of a centimeter. He caught her chin and turned it to the side, dragging the point of a knife along her exposed neck. She shivered softly, eyes closed as tight as they had ever been before.

"You still haven't screamed for me." He whispered.

-

Grissom sped towards the golf course, despite Catherine's pleas for him to slow down. Her cell rang in the midst of the madness and she fumbled for it as she held onto the security bars in the SUV. "You _do_ know these things have high roll rates, right?" Opening the cell, she lifted it to her ear. "Willows!"

"Catherine, listen. It's David. We cleaned the secondary vic's body, and she's got 9AM carved into her back."

Glancing at the clock, Catherine's eyes widened. Grissom must have heard her swallow the lump in her throat. "It's 8:54AM. Thanks, David."

"What?" Grissom didn't look at her, but his body was more tense than before.

"He gave us a time limit. 9AM."

At that moment, they pulled into the course and sped towards a clubhouse on the back of the lot. The size of one of the windows made Grissom's heart jump into his throat. "There. She's there."

-

John Rydell looked up, his knife pressed securely to Sara's neck. He saw a large black SUV in the distance. Glancing again at his watch, he cursed softly. "Two minutes, darling."

"How?" She whispered.

John raised an eyebrow.

"How are you going to kill me? I think I should have the privilege of knowing." Her eyes were open again, watching him.

He laughed. "Just as your Grissom approaches the clubhouse, I'm going to remove your heart. Remember when you did that to me? You ripped my heart out. You stole my little girl from me."

"She's _my_ little girl. And Grissom's little girl."

He grinned.

"And second, you were abusing her. She may never recover from what you did to her, do you realize that?" She spat at him again.

"What I do with my child is _my_ business, you stupid bitch!" He backhanded her and looked up, watching Grissom exit the vehicle, nearly tripping over his own two feet to try to get into the clubhouse. "Here comes your lover. Too slow." Rydell raised his knife high over his head, winking at Grissom through the glass just as he plunged it down towards her chest.

-

He could see in the window. Sara was wearing a sheet, torn and bloody. Her eyes were nearly emotionless. She may have been dead. But then, her hand moved. A trigger motion. Catching her drift, Grissom unholstered his gun and raised it.

"No, Griss! You'll hit her!" Catherine screamed and covered her ears, watching her colleague make a grave mistake.

-

Glass shattered everywhere. Sarah closed her eyes tightly to avoid any glass shards. Her head was turned away from the window. She felt warmth on her face, pinpricks of heat. Then, pain. Her chest was heavy. She struggled hard to breathe, but breath didn't come. She gasped loudly, tears rolling down her cheeks. This was it. She'd reached her end. It'd been a good run, but God, she was so young. There were so many things she wanted to do yet. She saw her mother's face, then Anna's. The little girl had smiled broadly at her, trusting her somehow throughout her own pain.

"I wish you were my mommy." The child had clung to Sara's leg as she said it. She wanted so badly to take her into her arms and hold her and tell her that she was her mommy. And that she loved her. And that her daddy would love her too, when he knew that his little girl was so brave and so beautiful.

"SARA!" She heard Grissom's voice. She felt his hands on her face, then they pulled away. Her parched lips tried to speak. Her chest ached.

"Gri…Gil…"

But then, no more words came.

-

A/N: To tell you the truth, I'm having a lot of trouble ending this. It seems too short to end after six or seven chapters, but anything I come up with is far too slow to appropriately fit with the pace of the rest of the story. Gimme your feedback. Would you like to see the story continue for a few chapters after this one? Would the change in pace deter you from reading on? Review me and let me know!


	6. A New Road

A/N: Thanks for your feedback. I've never written a story with this much action in it, and it's hard for me to gauge a reader's response to a change in pace. I didn't think I'd be able to pull this story off, but it seems I have. I hope you enjoy the rest of your reading experience with me, and the ideas churning in my head may lead to another story soon!

-

He'd seen it so many times before. The bloodsoaked witness/husband/innocent bystander sitting silently, stricken with fear, guilt, and anticipation in a hospital waiting room. Grissom sat alone, covered in a mix of Sara's and Rydell's blood. They'd taken her to surgery two hours ago. She'd sustained a major injury to her femur, a stab wound to her chest, and she had quite a nasty blow to the head. The loss of blood was immense. She was listed in serious condition, and one of the doctors had said earlier, "Prepare for the worst." He couldn't lose her now. Not after he almost saved her.

Nick, Greg, and Warrick rushed into the waiting area, their eyes widening.

"Gil, man…go home and change. Sleep. Eat. We'll call you and tell you if something develops. You look like hell." Warrick stepped up, patting his friend on the back. Catherine had told them what he'd done. Rydell was dead. Grissom shot him before he could kill her. He'd fallen forward, however, and still stabbed her in the process. From where Grissom sat, it didn't appear as if he'd hit anything major. She kept breathing. Always a good sign. When he saw her, however, he couldn't stop himself. He pushed Rydell off of her and picked her up, carrying her bloodied body to his car. Before Catherine could protest, they were gone, off towards the nearest hospital.

"No. She needs me." His voice was hoarse, his eyes worried.

"She might be in surgery for a few more hours. She probably doesn't even know what's going on."

"Can you guys just…disappear?" He looked up at them, then looked to Catherine walking up the hall towards him.

"Gil, I ransacked your house. Forgive me. But I brought some fresh clothes. A nurse down the hall said you could wash up in one of their showers after I take the photos I need and collect the clothes you're wearing." She handed a bag to him. "Please. It'll only take a few minutes, and they'll come get you the moment she comes out of surgery."

He looked at the bag, then took it and headed off in the direction from which she had come.

-

Showered and re-dressed, Grissom returned to his post in the waiting room. Three hours and six cups of tea passed before Dr. Ferguson approached with a solemn look in his eye. He untied his mask and let it fall down to rest on his chest, his hands on his hips.

"Mr. Grissom?"

Grissom stood, brushing imaginary dust from his pantlegs as he looked to the doctor. "Yeah, that's me. How is she?"

"Sir, she lost a lot of blood. We managed to place her femur back together and closed the wound enough. With physical therapy, she'll walk again. The head wound wasn't severe enough to cause any permanent damage, but she may not remember a lot of her attack. As for the chest wound, her lung was slashed slightly on the left hand side. We closed the wound and stopped any internal bleeding." The doctor sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "She's in bad shape, but she'll be okay."

Offering his hand, Grissom showed great appreciation for all they'd done to save Sara. "You don't know how much…" Tears threatened the rims of his eyelids.

The doctor nodded. "I know. I know how you feel." He offered a tired, but polite smile and turned, heading down the hallway. "Oh, and she's in recovery. I think you can go see her. She's out, but if you want to talk to her, you can."

His pace was slow, much slower than it had been over the past twenty-four hours. His heart stopped in his chest as he entered the room. There was his angel, the woman who had given birth to his child, albeit without having told him. No matter. Now, he knew. If Sara won custody, surely he would be able to see his little girl on a regular basis. His mind was racing as he stepped up to the side of the bed. Her head was bandaged, soft brown hair peeking out from underneath. He blamed himself for the smaller scratches on her face, which had come from the bits of glass when he shattered the window of the clubhouse. The setup of the clubhouse had been perfect for Rydell's intentions. He wanted a stage. A place where his actions could have been seen, but not touched. The glass of the clubhouse's panoramic window provided this perfect view.

Sara's eyes moved slightly in her sleep. A soft whimper escaped from her lips. One of her unscathed limbs, her left hand, rested next to her. Grissom took a seat on the edge of the bed, dragging his index finger across the back of her hand. When her whimper ceased, he took the delicate hand in his, squeezing softly. She let out a soft sigh, maybe of relief, as if she could sense that he was there. He leaned forward and brushed his lips against an exposed portion of her forehead, his eyes closed.

"I don't know what I would have done if I'd have lost you." He whispered softly, his sharp blue eyes opened to search her face. "I love you, Sara."

Her eyelids flickered again, and he could have sworn that he felt her squeeze his hand. He smiled and moved into the chair that sat next to her bed, making sure not to let go of her hand. He didn't want to let go ever again.

-

"How long has he been there?" Warrick Brown asked, leaning back in his chair.

"Two and a half days. Non-stop. He just won't leave her." Catherine sighed softly and sipped her cup of coffee.

"I think he blames himself for this."

"I think you're right."

Moving to the counter in the break room, Warrick poured himself a cup of coffee. He grabbed a packet of sugar and shook it back and forth, settling the grains to the bottom of the paper sack. "Any news on her condition?"

"She's still in critical. As of about two hours ago, she wasn't awake. But he promised to call us the minute she starts talking." Catherine ran a hand through her hair. "Ecklie's taking his dear sweet time on the investigation into Rydell's killing. I think he's going to want to charge Grissom with his murder just because he broke his nose."

"You were there. What happened?" He stirred in the sugar and sat across from her, adjusting into the chair.

She shrugged. "Rydell had Sara tied to the table. She was nearly out. Lost tons of blood. She looked over at us and suddenly Gil had his gun out. He shot before I could tell him not to."

"Damn. Do you think he'll lose his job?"

"I think that as long as he's cleared, he'd just be on administrative leave for a while. Then, they'd give him his job back."

"But how are they going to clear him?"

Catherine shook her head with another sigh. "I don't know."

-

"Grissom."

He grunted softly, rocking his head from one shoulder to the other, trying to sleep sitting in his chair.

"Gil, go home. Sleep in your bed, not in the chair next to my bed."

"Cath, I'll go home when Sara leaves this damn hospital." He mumbled in return.

"You look like hell."

He opened his eyes, expecting to see Catherine standing next to him, instead, no one. Looking to Sara, his eyes widened. "Sara."

She smiled slightly, pushing herself up in the bed, wincing as she went.

"Here, here…let me help you." He fluffed the pillow behind her and placed a hand on her back to ease her up against the bed.

"Ugh, thanks." She licked her lips and looked at him. "I'm dry, can you get me a drink?"

He felt nervous, like a schoolboy, when she talked to him. He always had. He stood and fumbled for a glass of water, then a straw the nurse had left on the table near her. He swung the table to rest within her reach and sat back in his place after she took a drink.

"How long have you been here?" She turned to look at him again, thankful that her parched insides were regaining their moisture.

"Just as long as you have. About three or four days."

She let out a mock gasp. "Gil Grissom missed four days of work?"

He smirked. "I see you didn't injure your sense of humor."

"Nah, bastard let me keep that." She smiled softly, then let it fade. "Where is he?"

"Dead. Laid out on Doc's table." He shifted slightly, looking very uncomfortable.

"How?"

"I killed him."

"Good." She nodded and lifted a hand slightly to make a motion with her finger. "You caught my signal."

He raised an eyebrow.

Sara smiled. "I signaled for you to shoot him. I wanted you to kill him."

A nod. "Yeah, I thought that's what you meant." He looked at his hands and bit his lip. "Sara…they're probably not going to let it slide."

"They will…I'll testify, and then—"

"No, Sara. I killed a man. And the evidence will say that. I'm saying that. I killed him for what he did to you." He looked at her straight. "Just…whatever happens with this, tell Anna that her father loves her."

She was sure that if it were possible, she would have paled. "Griss, I'm sorry…"

"I'm sorry. It shouldn't have happened."

"You don't remember that night, do you?"

His brow furrowed as he watched her features.

"_I_ seduced _you_, Gil. I wanted you so badly. I got you drunk, I led you to my bedroom, and I took advantage of you. Maybe…maybe somehow…I knew that Anna would come along. Maybe I wanted her. But I got scared when she finally came, and I gave her away." A tear rolled down her cheek as she talked, looking more at the wall than him. "I shouldn't have."

"What happened to her is not your fault, Sara. You thought you could trust them." He reached for her hand and squeezed it softly.

"They'd raised a little boy together, and he was fine. He was healthy. If I'd have known…" She released a quiet sob.

"Don't you dare blame yourself, Sara."

"They even let me name her." She smiled through her tears, looking directly into his eyes now, returning the squeeze he had given her hand. "Anna Gillian. My mother's middle name, a part of your name." Another sob. "Two people who I loved so much…and let them go without telling them."

Gil let his eyes wander over her features, taking in the sincerity of those tears. "And now that I'm here?"

She whispered, as it was all she had left in her. "I still love you, Gil. I will always love you."

He moved to her, unable to touch her fragile body. He struggled with himself for a moment before brushing his lips across hers, allowing his own tears to fall. "I love you with everything that I am, Sara Sidle. Everything."


	7. Resolution

A/N: Elizabeth and Saskia2 – Thanks for the information, but the key here is that Ecklie has a giant grudge against Gil Grissom, and always has. Doesn't help that he broke his nose. Since Catherine was the only witness to Rydell's murder, there has to be a minor investigation. Nobody but Gil and Cath saw Rydell threatening Sara's life at the time of his death. Therefore, Ecklie's going to take the opportunity to drag out a huge investigation. There's not much or any pressure from the authorities, just Ecklie, who is over Grissom's head in this matter. Also, third-person self-defense, which you suggested as being legal for any citizen, is only valid when the defender and the defendee are relatives (Citizen's Self-Defense Act of 2005). I had planned to bring this up in a situation later on, but found it frivolous. It's basically why Anna was created – having a child together would technically constitute that Sara and Grissom were related. However, when Rydell progressed into assaulting Sara (through some sick turn of my demented psyche), the defense became obsolete.

So, to those who were critical of Anna's existence, those who thought it cliché, she had a reason to be there. The story just took a different turn, as they often do.

This story has been a great ride, and I've never had as much criticism on any other subject. I guess it's that those drawn to CSI are trained to pay more attention to detail:) In any case, thank you to those who have supported me. Now, I leave you with the last chapter of my story, however mushy it may be, and I head off to sit for 16 hours in frigid weather and snow to obtain tickets for the Crosstown Shootout in Cinci. W00T!

-

Files dropped to the floor as Gil shuffled things about on his desk, hurriedly. His hands were shaking as he bent to clean up his mess. Pushing the case files back to where they belonged, he sat down in his chair and closed his eyes, running a hand through his hair. A delicate hand on his shoulder caused him to jump.

"Hey now…calm down." Sara smiled and leaned forward to place a soft kiss on Grissom's lips. "I'm nervous too, but you're an absolute wreck."

The corners of his lips turned slightly upward. "Yeah, I guess. It's just…I've never met her. What's she going to think of me?"

Pushing his arms out of the way, Sara took a seat in his lap, cupping his clean-shaven cheek with her palm. His arms slid around her waist as he leaned his head on her shoulder. "Gil, the only home Anna's ever known was abusive. She was told daily that her parents didn't love her because she wasn't actually theirs. Being placed in a new home with two new parents will be scary…for all of us. But I know, deep down, that she'll love us."

His smile broadened. "Do you think so?" He paused. "I've been wondering if…"

"Hmm?" Sara raised an eyebrow and turned her head to look at him fully.

"I wonder if she's like us. I know the nature versus nurture debate is continually ongoing, but there must be something about her that's similar to our traits. We already know she's just as beautiful as her mother." He reached up to push a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

"Stop it." In spite of herself, Sara Sidle blushed. "And I really don't know. We'll just have to see."

Grissom nodded, going quiet for the moment. "Do you think we should get married?" He didn't even have to look at her to understand how uncomfortable she'd become.

"Gil…" She swallowed hard and took a deep breath. "Is it our style? I mean, can you see yourself getting married? Can you see me…as a wife? A house in the suburbs? Three bedrooms, two baths, white picket fence? A dog in the yard?"

"Three bedrooms, Sara?" He smirked slightly.

She cursed her cheeks for blushing again. "I don't know. From your tone, you've obviously been mulling this over since we won custody. And honestly, I have too. How about we just take this one day at a time? We can both be there for Anna, raise her together, and see where it takes us. After some time, if we want to get married, we will."

"And maybe create an occupant for the third bedroom?"

"…maybe." Sara grinned.

-

Sara, who never wore a skirt, tugged nervously on the hem of the one she donned for this special occasion. It flared from her hips and rested around her knees, leaving her lower, and surprisingly shapely legs, exposed to the world. Grissom smirked and leaned over to whisper into her ear.

"You look…what's that word? Hot. Stop fidgeting."

Her elbow collided with his ribs. "I'm not trying to look hot. I'm trying to look matronly." She crossed one leg over the other as she sat, making sure to cover the scar on her thigh from the abduction. Her hand slid into Grissom's and squeezed softly as the door before them swung open. A somewhat shy-looking little girl stood next to her social worker. She wore a blue dress, her curls resting at her shoulders, dirty tennis shoes on her feet. As she looked up from her gaze at the floor, she recognized Sara and smiled.

"Are you…?" She spoke quietly, her gaze shifting to Grissom. He looked nervous to Anna. But she saw the stuffed animal under his arm and immediately liked him. "Is that for me?"

He looked puzzled for a minute, then remembered. Pulling the gift from behind his elbow, he handed it awkwardly towards her. "My name's Gil. It's a ladybug."

Anna dashed forward and took it, hugging it to her with a smile. "It's a _Coccinella septempunctata_. I like insects. Especially beetles."

Sara watched Grissom's chest swell with pride as she wrapped her arm around him. "Anna…do you know who we are?"

Nodding and feeling more comfortable with these new people, she looked up at them. "You're Gil and Sara. My real parents."

Tears threatened to spill from Sara's eyes as she bent at the knees and opened her arms to the little girl. Anna moved cautiously forward and allowed Sara to hug her tightly. After a moment, she wrapped her arms around Sara in turn, feeling safe. The feeling of warm breath in her hair met her as Grissom wrapped his arms around mother and daughter and placed a kiss in the girl's hair.

"Sara? Gil?" Anna asked, pulling away slightly. They looked at her and she could see tears streaming down their smiling faces. "Can we go home?"

"Yes, Anna. We can go home." Grissom stood, bringing Sara with him as they thanked the social worker and headed down the hallway to begin their happily ever after.


End file.
